Chapter 4 – Reflection

After many grueling hours the new dynamic duo managed to deactivate Joker's timer, evacuate the stadium and defuse all 347 of the remaining bombs. Alfred watched as the Batmobile entered the cave and its occupants exited the vehicle. He immediately saw the blood crusted around a large slash on the new Batman's arm and quickly got to work preparing to clean and suture the wound. As Robin headed to change out of his uniform the new Batman stalked across the cave, ripping the cowl angrily from his head as he did so. The look on his face said it all but he vocalized his thoughts anyway.

"He didn't buy it for a second, Alfred. Our fighting styles are too different, I'm four inches shorter than Bruce and this damn cape keeps getting in my way. How does he fight in this thing?" Alfred gave Nightwing a fatherly look.

"Please sit, Master Dick and let me see to your arm." Dick stripped to his waist and sat down heavily as Alfred began disinfecting the cut. He looked up at Alfred dejectedly.

"I'm not cut out for this Alfred. I can't go out there again pretending to be something I'm not. I never wanted this. It's why I left Wayne Manor in the first place. To find my own way, my own identity. I never wanted to be like Bruce. I never wanted to be the cold, calculating, cynical Batman!" Alfred carefully threaded a curved needle.

"And you are not like Master Bruce. You value people and personal relationships in a way Bruce was never capable. Master Dick, you don't need to try and be a carbon copy of Bruce. This is merely a role you are playing and you must play to your strengths."

"Alfred, Joker knew the minute we landed on that field that I wasn't him." Damian had stripped off his Robin costume and returned wearing jeans and a hoodie just in time to hear Dick whining.

"That's only because you quipped, Grayson! You just can't help yourself can you?" Dick turned his head towards Damian as Alfred began the task of stitching up the wound on his arm.

"I'm sorry, it's force of habit! I quip. I've always quipped, it always helped me unnerve and distract my opponents. It's just one of those things I don't usually have to think about." Damian pointed his finger at Dick.

"Well you had better start thinking about it or no one else is going to believe you're really Batman either! This town has already started to fall apart since father disappeared and it's up to us to fix it. If you're not up to the task, give me the cape and cowl! I'd make a far superior Batman anyway. It's in my blood, Grayson."

"Master Damian, I don't believe at your stature you would be any more convincing than Master Dick." He snipped the thread on the finished suture and looked Dick in the eye. "Don't doubt yourself Dick. Nothing of great value comes without hard work, dedication and determination. You just need to practice your new role. May I suggest starting at street level thugs before going after the rogue's gallery, at least until you've had more time to master this grave responsibility that's been thrust upon you?" Dick hung his head.

"You're right of course, Alfred, but I couldn't let Joker blow up an entire stadium! I didn't have a choice."

"I fully agree Master Dick. It's unfortunate you had to face Joker on your first day out, but you can't let it deter you. Gotham needs a Batman and now that Batman is you." Dick shook his head.

"Yeah, but I'm not the hero Gotham needs, or deserves. We need to find Bruce. If he were really dead we'd have found a body. We all know that body the GCPD is testing isn't him. He's out there somewhere, Alfred, I can feel it and the sooner we figure out where, the better. Then he can take back this stupid cowl and I can go back to being my happy, quippy old self again." Damian shot Dick an annoyed look as he rubbed his bruised shoulder.

"Tt. Quit your whining Grayson. I want to find father as much as you do, but we have a job to do in the meantime. I suggest you start by watching father's training videos. It may help you mimic his style. Secondly Grayson, you need to keep your damn feet on the ground. Batman doesn't jump around like a circus performer. It's a dead giveaway! And for the love of God, stop with the witty banter! Batman doesn't joke, quip or banter! He broods." Dick gave Alfred a pleading look.

"See, I'm not cut out for this!"

"That is quite enough, Master Dick. Self-pity will not be tolerated in this household." Alfred glanced at his watch. "It's nearly dawn, young Masters, and you both need to get to bed. We can discuss this again after you're both rested and have eaten a proper meal."

Damian rolled his eyes and bounded up the stairs towards the Manor. Alfred grabbed Dick by the shoulder and met his deep blue eyes.

"You must have faith Master Dick. Both in yourself and in the plausibility that we'll eventually find Master Bruce. I know I certainly believe in you both." He gave Dick's shoulder a squeeze.

"Thanks, Alfie. I needed to hear that."

"Now off to bed with you, young man."

"Night Alfie."

Across Gotham in East Park Side, Poison Ivy was just about finished applying her special aloe to the cuts on Harley Quinn's face.

"There we go sweetie. Before you know it you'll be good as new. You sit tight, I'm going to make you an ice pack for that eye and prepare some herbal tea to calm your nerves." Harley looked sadly at her best friend.

"Thanks Red. I'm sorry for just showing up here like this unannounced, but I didn't know where else to go."

"Oh Harley, my door is always open to you. I wish you'd get yourself out of this cycle of abuse, but you're welcome to stay as long as you need." Ivy gently caressed her unbruised cheek. "I'll be right back, okay?"

She nodded in reply. Ivy entered the kitchen leaving Harley alone with her thoughts. The injuries were actually not all that bad considering the rage that fueled the attack. Joker had given her worse beatings for less than trying to push him to face emotions he was not prepared to entertain. What was making her feel like she was dying inside were the things he said to her. Some of it was just his usual insults. He often called her stupid or worthless or pathetic and he had thrown her out on multiple occasions for minor slights, but he really went for the jugular tonight. Her chest ached and she felt completely hollowed out. She had cried so hard for so long she was physically drained. His comment about her not being good in bed bothered her the most. He had always seemed satisfied with her, had even complimented her for her skill. Did he really mean it or was he just trying to hurt her? Dr. Quinzel spoke up.

You know it was in your best interest for him to throw you out tonight, Harley. He has lost all control of himself and is too dangerous to be near right now. He's hit the anger stage of his grieving process, and what is underneath the anger? Pain. You know as well as I do that Joker is not used to emotional pain. He's a textbook sociopath and as such does not feel emotions in the same way as normal people. Until this moment he's been completely immune to emotional pain. This is uncharted territory for him. You should have left him alone after the stadium to begin to process the reality of Batman's death. He's heart-broken and you know him well enough to know that when he's miserable, he's going to do his best to make you miserable. You made yourself a target, you silly girl.

He's feeling deserted and abandoned by someone he believes to be the only person he could ever really rely on, no matter how faulty that thinking really is. His anger is giving structure to the nothingness of the loss. You know he's not truly angry with you specifically. It's common for the bereaved to extend their anger to family, friends and acquaintances, but it's strictly a reactionary response to the pain. What he's really angry at is the injustice of what has happened to him, he's mad at himself for facilitating Batman's death, he may even be angry at God for letting this happen, not that J has ever expressed devout faith, but he does believe in heaven so it just goes to show that it's possible. He's angry for the pain and emptiness he's feeling, the helplessness and the hopelessness. All emotions he's only ever heard about before and not actually experienced firsthand.

Don't forget that the deeper the connection to the deceased the deeper the pain and the greater the sense of loss. You've always known you played second fiddle to Batman. He has always been Joker's first love and first priority. You knew Batman could die or disappear for good one day. What exactly did you expect to happen? That he'd throw himself in your arms, have a good cry and then it'd be business as usual? You're a smart girl, Harley. You know better.

Keep in mind that anger is a necessary stage of the grieving process. The more he truly feels his anger, the more it will begin to dissipate and the more he will heal. If you truly love him, give him time alone to come to terms with things, but not too much time. He's highly likely to self-destruct if left to his own devices for too long. He's going to need you more than he has ever needed anyone if he's going to make it through this.

"Well what do you know? All that med school training is still good for something. Thanks for the advice, Doc!" Ivy walked into the living room to catch Harley talking to herself. She shot her a look that was part confusion and part concern.

"Harley, who are you talking to?"

She looked over to see Ivy standing in the doorway carrying a tray of steaming tea and an ice pack. She crossed the room, set the tray down and sat down next to her friend.

"Sorry Red, just talking to myself. Or an aspect of myself, I guess you'd call it." Ivy handed her the ice pack. She was worried the recent trauma had sent her off the deep end.

"What are you talking about?"

"Heh. It's the part of me I suppress so I don't feel bad when Mistah J and I do bad stuff. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. She doesn't talk a lot but when she does it's usually important." Ivy placed a hand on Harley's back, rubbing small circles against it and spoke softly.

"So essentially you're in session inside of your head when she talks to you?" Harley nodded.

"Yup, pretty much. She had a lot to say tonight. It was a productive session, I think."

"Well if your shrink-self is talking to you, I hope she's telling you to leave that sorry excuse for a human being and start working on becoming the strong, independent woman I know you can be Harley." She shook her head.

"I don't think you want to know what her advice was."

Ivy removed her hand and pursed her lips ready for the inevitable words she knew she'd hear sooner or later.

"Let me guess, she told you to go back to that sick, abusive bastard." Harley stared at a spot on the floor.

"Well not yet, no. He needs time to come to terms with Batsy first, but soon. She says he's really gonna need me to help him get through this." Ivy stood abruptly.

"I can't believe you! How many times are you going to let him use you as a punching bag before you wise up and get rid of that clown?" She raised her eyes to meet Ivy's icy gaze.

"Look, Red, this was my fault." She pointed to her bruised and puffy face. "I knew better than to push him, but I did it anyway. I knew he'd react violently to this kind of news but I put myself in harm's way. I should have left him well enough alone until he was ready to talk about it. I can't blame him for what he's feeling right now. He's in pain and he's gonna need me to help him deal with it. That's what you do when you really love someone. You take the good with the bad. I can't abandon him now when he's going to need me more than he ever has before." Ivy huffed out an irritated breath and placed her hands on her hips.

"Do you have even a single ounce of self-preservation in you? He's going to kill you one day Harley! Don't you get that?"

"Look Red, I know you hate Mistah J. I know you hate that we're together and while I really, really appreciate your concern for me, I love him and I'm gonna be there for him." Ivy threw her hands in the air.

"You are absolutely impossible!" She shouted. Harley hung her head and Ivy saw tears begin running down her cheeks. "Oh sweetie, please don't cry." She sat down and embraced her friend. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, it's just I really care about you and I'm worried about your well-being. You're my only real friend, Harley. If something were to happen to you I don't know what I'd do." Harley returned the embrace.

"I love you too Red, but I love Joker too." Ivy sighed into Harley's hair.

"I know you do. I wish you didn't and I keep hoping that one day you'll see him for what he really is. It kills me to see you bruised, battered and in tears every few months."

"I know Red, but it's just his way. Neither of us can change it and I love him too much to leave." Ivy broke the embrace. She slid the now lukewarm cup of tea over to her.

"Here, drink this before it goes cold. It will help you sleep." Harley wiped her face with the backs of her hands and picked up the mug.

"Thanks for understanding and for being such a good friend. I don't know what I'd do without you either."

"Let's just hope neither of us ever has to find out."

Back at the lair in Chinatown Joker was having a very violent meltdown. The fourth floor of the place was trashed. There were holes punched and kicked through the walls, the smaller pieces of furniture had been broken into splinters, the rest overturned and the upholstery slashed to ribbons. The windows had all been broken. He shot out the television screen and smashed the electronics. Every mirror was shattered leaving glittering shards of glass covering large sections of the floors. Joker had walked through it, glass grinding into the soles of his bare feet, and the carpets were now covered in bloody footprints.

He finally collapsed onto his knees in the middle of the bedroom from exhaustion and grief. He knelt there panting, his chest expanding and contracting far too quickly. If he wasn't careful he was bound to hyperventilate. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, his shoulders slumped and his head hung down towards the floor. He was naked from the waist up and his chest was smeared with blood, likely from his knuckles or fingertips which were still lazily oozing sanguine droplets on the floor.

He slowly raised his head, tears glittering in his eyes and on his cheeks, to look at the large Bat-symbol he had painted on the wall in his own blood.

"How could you do this to me? This wasn't part of our game, Bats! You've survived worse than what I dished out that night. Why? I want you to tell me why you didn't save yourself this time! How dare you! How dare you abandon me now? You abandoned me and left Nightwing as your pathetic excuse for a replacement!" He opened his mouth and let out a terrifying scream that sounded like a wild animal in pain.

"How am I supposed to continue on? My act needs a straight man. You can't have a great comedy duo without a straight man!" He shouted to no one but himself. He slumped to one side and rolled onto his back with his arms out to either side of his body and stared at the broken light fixture above him.

"What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life now that you're gone? There's no fun in my work without you. I'm too young to retire!" His eyes widened as he realized his life's work was suddenly over. "No more jokes. No more gags. No more smiles. No more acid cream pies. No more Smilex filled lapel flowers. No more elaborate death traps. It's all over. What's the point of trying to go on? There's no Batman without Joker. No Joker without Batman. My whole life, at least what I remember of it, has been dedicated almost solely to us. You and me. Two peas in a pod, two sides of the same coin, two nuts off the same tree. We were bookends, you and I, and now you're gone. You're really gone." His throat tightened and his vision blurred as he fought back a fresh barrage of tears.

"What am I gonna do? There's just no point to anything anymore. My life is over." He rolled onto his side and curled his body into the fetal position, wrapping his lanky arms around his torso where he stayed for the rest of the night feeling sorry for himself and trying to bear the emptiness that seemed to gnaw at his insides.

In Grant Park, located several blocks away from Gotham Towers, GCPD officer Glenn Perkins was walking his beat. The weather had turned cold and was due to get much colder overnight. Winter was almost upon them again. As he strolled through the park he came upon a homeless man sleeping under a pile of newspapers on one of the park benches. He pulled out his billy club and gently prodded the sleeping man.

"Hey buddy, wake up. Hey, come on guy you can't stay here."

The homeless man sat up and stared dazedly at the cop with his bright blue eyes. His head was covered with a dirty woolen trapper hat and his face was covered in dirt and filth. He had a short but scraggly black beard and was wearing a torn and battered winter coat that was at least three sizes too small. His torso was insulated with layers of newspapers tied around him with twine. His torn and grubby pants also appeared far too small for the man wearing them. His boots were the only thing that looked new. They were made of black leather and came up almost to the man's knees. They were heavy duty and looked expensive. He thought it odd to see boots like that on a homeless guy, but in a city like Gotham who knew what a person would throw in the trash these days.

"Look buddy, normally I wouldn't bother you, but it's going to drop below freezing tonight. There's a shelter just down the way on the corner of Church and 6th. They'll give you a hot meal and a warm bed to sleep in tonight. I need you to go on down there now. Can't have you freezing to death on my watch, ya know."

The homeless man slowly stood. The guy was huge. He towered over the cop who was five eleven. His shoulders were broad and his chest massive. He very obviously had a lot of muscle mass, this guy had to be ex-military back from the Middle East or something. His eyes were strange, he reminded the cop of soldiers who came back from war shell shocked.

"Well, you're a big fella aren't ya? Now get on down to the shelter. I don't want to see you back on the streets tonight okay guy?

"Yes sir. Thank you officer." The man replied in a very deep tone.

"You have a good night now." The cop watched as the man slowly walked towards the warmth and light of the shelter. "It's a damn shame we don't take better care of our vets in this country. Maybe I should write a letter to our legislators."

The cop shrugged and continued walking his beat not giving the homeless man another thought.